No words, just the odd grunt . . . a reconstruction from Gladiators:Back from the Dead, Channel 4. Photograph: Channel 4

I'd like to have known more about the building work in a York suburb that uncovered the skeletons in Gladiators: Back from the Dead (Channel 4). It looks as if it might have been someone's back garden; maybe they were putting up an extension, or building a conservatory. I wouldn't want to have a conservatory over this lot; you'd be sitting there of an afternoon having a nice cup of tea, and suddenly, from the ground beneath you, you'd hear the tortured screams of men who had been brutally killed more than 2,000 years ago. Maybe a bloody arm, gripping a sword, would be thrust up through your Homebase tiles. There would be an eerie roar, the crowd in the arena demanding death. It could spoil the whole thing.

Eighty skeletons were found, nearly all of them strong men in their prime. Most had terrible fractures, sword injuries, crushed skulls. Many had been decapitated. They didn't all die in vain, though, because now six lucky souls are being put back together.

There's the other sort of reconstruction, too: the TV kind that you so often find on Channel 4 documentaries about the olden days. I think it's probably excusable here, because it's all about the fight, and the manner of death. No words, thankfully, just the odd grunt. And it's not too bad – not quite Ridley Scott, but better than average. Muscly men grimace and go at each other, with lots of shadow around the outside to hide the fact that this is on a TV budget. No Russell Crowe, no arena, no bloodthirsty crowd. They are provided by the soundtrack: oooh, arrrh, boo, kill him. I'm not sure about the scarlet fountains spurting from the wounds – does blood ever actually do that?

One of the skeletons appears to have been savaged by a large wild animal, and has tooth holes in his shoulder blades and pelvis. The man with the white coat can't hide his excitement. "This tiger's canine tooth actually fits the puncture mark very, very nicely," he says. His tooth (can tigers really have canines?) fits another hole "nicely and snugly", another "almostly perfectly". But maybe it's OK to be excited when it happened such a long time ago.

As the science guy says, it's unlikely this poor chap was attacked by a tiger on his way home from the pub in York. All the evidence points to death in the arena. There wasn't much else to do in York back then. Beast fighters weren't even trained in combat, and most of their skin was exposed because the crowd wanted to see them being torn apart. This man was about 22 when he died. They were a charming lot, those Romans. Disturbingly fascinating.

From fighting big cats to fighting big catfish. "Noodling," to be precise, a special kind of angling I had never heard of until seeing Hooked: Monster Fishing (National Geographic). In a way, it is similar to what went on with the tigers in the Roman empire, as noodlers wear very little protection and do battle with mighty beasts. They are the redneck gladiators of muddy American rivers. The only difference is that these dudes choose to do it.

Noodling works like this. The noodler wades about in the river, sticking his hands into underwater holes. If there's a catfish in there, it will hopefully bite the noodler (that's what the noodler wants, strangely: they wear their wounds with pride). And then he'll grab the fish and try to wrestle it out of the water. If it's a big one, his mates will all pile in and help. So it's basically fishing, but without using a rod, line or hook. And using your hand as bait. Bloody idiots.

Storyville: Sync or Swim (BBC4) was nice. A Welshman goes to live in Sweden, can't find work or friends, has a mid-life crisis. So he joins a club, meets men of a similar age who are going through the same thing, makes friends, and his life regains meaning and direction. The surprise is that it's a synchronised swimming club, the only male one in Sweden.

It's sort of The Full Monty, only wetter and more subtle. More Swedish, too: there's an understated humour and melancholy about Dylan's new pals that could only be Scandinavian. Male friendship can be a surprisingly lovely thing, and this was a surprisingly lovely film.